Robert chuckled. “I hear you there.”
Hector glanced out over the floor of the bar. There were a few people sitting around, not too many. He knew by midnight, the place would practically be standing room only. It usually was on weekends, which was why he had a job. Few people were brave enough to cause problems when he was on duty.
And if he didn’t scare them into behaving themselves, the boss man did. Harvey James was quite possibly the most intimidating man Hector had ever met. Most people were in fear of the Harvey’s older brother, Dorian, who used to be an agent and worked undercover as the leader of a motorcycle club for over ten years, but Hector personally thought Harvey was the scarier of the two brothers.
Bigger, too.
Much bigger.
Hector grabbed a tub and headed out onto the floor. There weren’t many glasses that needed to be picked up, but there were a few. It wasn’t on his job description, but every little bit helped out at the end of the evening.
He picked up the empty glasses, nodded to a few of the regulars, took a couple of beer orders—along with payment for said drinks—then headed back to the bar. “I need two beers and a shot, Dixie.”
“Coming right up, honey.”
Hector smiled at the fiftyish buxom blonde as he deposited the cash and got the change. Dixie was one of a kind. Her hair had so much peroxide in it, she practically glowed at night. Her nails were long and painted blood red, which matched her lipstick. And despite the fact that she swore up and down she was all natural, Hector was pretty sure she’d had a breast implant at some point in her life, big ones.
But a truer friend one could never have. Between her fast-talking ways, her sawed-off shotgun “Betsy,” and her tattoos, Dixie was a badass. She didn’t take shit off anyone, but she’d give a friend the shirt right off her back.
Hector grabbed the drinks Dixie set down on the bar top and carried them over to the customers who’d ordered them. After handing them their change, he grabbed his tub and carried it into the back of the bar. It took just a moment to load them up into the industrial dishwasher Harvey had put in when he bought the place.
The decor of the place gave it that roadside honky-tonk feel, but the inner workings were top grade. Wooden walls, plank board flooring, and peanut shells hid the large industrial kitchen, high-grade security system, and a sound system that would make any DJ envious.
“Hey, Dixie,” Hector called out as he headed for the cooler. “Did that order from Delany’s come in?”
“I had them unload it in the cooler,” Dixie yelled back.
Hector saw the crates of alcohol that had been delivered. Most orders came in by Tuesday, but they had been pretty wiped clean of whiskey a few days previous. Harvey had to put in a special order if they wanted to make it through the weekend.
Hector pulled a bottle out of the crate to stack it on the shelf, but the edge of the label was loose. He started to rub it down with his thumb, hoping whatever glue might be on would stick it back in place, when he noticed another label underneath it.
He frowned as he grabbed the loose edge and slowly peeled it back. His frown turned to an angry grimace when he found the label of a cheaper whiskey underneath the label for the more expensive whiskey Harvey had paid for.
Harvey had several different kinds of whiskey. This was a bar, after all, but his patrons expected to get what they paid for. If they paid the extra money for top-shelf whiskey, they expected to receive top-shelf whiskey. If they paid for the cheaper stuff, that’s what they got.
Harvey was going to be pissed. It looked as if someone had put labels for the more expensive whiskey on the cheaper whiskey bottles. Hector put the bottle back where he’d gotten it then grabbed the entire crate and carried it out of the cooler. He headed through the kitchen then down the hallway to Harvey’s office.
“Come in,” someone called out when he knocked.
Hector opened the door then pushed it open with his shoulder before stepping inside the room. “We might have a problem, boss.”
Harvey James lifted one eyebrow. It made the tattoos on his bald head stand out even more. “What sort of problem?”
Hector set the crate down on Harvey’s desk then grabbed the bottle with the torn label. He handed it to Harvey. “Didn’t you say Delany’s son had taken over for him recently?”
“Yes, I did. Delany had a heart attack, so his son took over running the business last month.”
“And when was the last time you put in an order for the top-shelf stuff?”
Harvey huffed as he set the bottle down on his desk. “Before old man Delany had his heart attack.”
Hector just stared at Harvey.
“Are all the bottles mislabeled?” Harvey asked.
“I haven’t checked. I found this bottle and brought it to you.”
“Shit.” Harvey reached for the crate and began pulling the bottles out. One by one, he pulled at the labels.
